What you get the Oncologist that has everything
by kiwi-fruit-from-hell
Summary: Christmas wouldn't be christmas without slash. Not too fluffy. HouseWilson.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, i have fallen to the seasonal fic writing. I've tried to make it unfluffy though. I'm having serious block writing "California" at the moment, it won't be updated till after xmas now, but i wanted to write something and here it is! The conclusion will be written and posted within the next couple of days.

* * *

It was December 26th, and House had thoroughly had enough of Christmas. Well, he had had enough of Christmas by December 12th; about 15 minutes after stupid decorations began appearing around the hospital. He wasn't against Christmas as a general rule, but all too soon he found the relentless fake-cheer and carol singers started to grate on his nerves. And then, of course, there were all the stupid people coming to the clinic terrified they had brain tumours because they couldn't make the link between heavy drinking and hang-overs, or the frantic parents who had somehow allowed their two year old child to eat tinsel. Lame strips of shiny plastic hung from the ceiling, crossing from corner to corner in the clinic lobby, seasonal greetings from various religions were pasted on the walls. House was tempted to remove the merry Christmas signs, after all Christmas was over, but dismissed it as a predictable action. No one ever had any respect for the atheists. House wondered why there were no signs wishing nothing to all those who didn't give a damn. His wrist-watch proclaimed 18 minutes to go before his lunch break. Desperate to avoid the man who clearly had food-poisoning (if he wasn't making a dash for the bathroom it was only because he was vomiting on the floor), House headed for the elevator. It felt wrong to be able to leave the clinic without Cuddy chasing him. He twirled his cane between his fingers whilst leaning against the wall, waiting patiently and surveying with pleasure the scene he was, at least momentarily, escaping.

His sharp blue eyes met with velvety brown ones across the room. Wilson leapt backwards out of the path of a green man heading for the bathroom, then proceeded to the elevator. He leant against the wall on the other side of the shiny grey doors from House and nodded his head in greeting. Now he was closer, House could see his friend's eyes were weary and bloodshot, his hair mussed and tie green. He offered a quiet hello, but did not follow with further questioning. Instead, he brushed his fingers against Wilson's wrist in silent comfort as they both entered the elevator. He knew how to deal with Wilson when he was unhappy, but today he looked different. Something in his demeanour reminded House of a lost little boy in a department store; like he knew he had to do something, find someone, but was scared of moving from the spot on which he stood. They rode up in the elevator in silence, they walked to House's office in silence, and Wilson looked over House's shoulder in silence as he drew up a sign.

House nearly jumped out of his skin when Wilson laughed, having grown accustomed to the silent state of his friend. His laugh was warm, which was also a surprise after how he had appeared only a few minutes earlier. House turned his head and saw that he was already beginning to relax. Wilson read aloud, "All those who don't believe, have a realistic holiday period."

"What do you think?"

"I think I've had enough of reality. And I think I want lunch."

"Dr Wilson, you read my mind. Cafeteria food is so much better when looked at in a biblical sense – the self flagellation will cleanse my sins."

"It's not _that_ bad." Wilson smiled weakly, but genuinely.

Conversation stopped again as they passed through the halls to the cafeteria and Wilson's brief reprieve from bleakness ended. House could almost see weights settling on his shoulders once more as they walked side by side. Curiosity was starting to overcome his respect for Wilson's feelings. Clearly he was upset, and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to talk about it. House ran over the best question to ask first as they paid for their meals and found a table. He decided to start with casual to gauge just how far Wilson could be pushed.

"I thought you had today off."

"Helping the sick seemed like a good way to spend the holidays."

"Oh, you're being a martyr." House popped a fry into his mouth. "We should just nail you to the cross and call you Jesus."

"Nice."

"Enjoy yesterday?" House asked. Although Wilson was Jewish, he knew he still had Christmas with Julie.

"Not sure," said Wilson with a wry smile. "I can't decide if I like what Julie got me."

"Which was…?"

"Divorce papers."

"Classy. She couldn't wait for your birthday, or Valentines day?"

Wilson didn't answer. His eyes welled up, and suddenly House felt like shit.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly.

"Could I stay with you? I spent last night at a motel and I just…"

"Of course," House played with the food on his plate absent-mindedly. "You said you weren't sure if you were pleased about it…why would you be?"

"That's a conversation I really need to leave until later."

House reached across the table and squeezed his friend's hand. He flashed a smile then stole another fry from Wilson's plate.


	2. Chapter 2

Happy holidays everyone.

* * *

House threw an assortment of sheets and blankets across the living room to Wilson, who was standing beside the couch staring into space. He jumped when a pillow hit him in the face and shook his head. "Sorry, lost in thought."

"Dangerous place to be." House commented.

Wilson picked the bedding up off the floor and began arranging it on the couch, an action which brought back memories of two previous divorces. He sighed, tipping forward to rest his head against the back of the couch. He was surprised to find House's hand resting on his shoulder, and sensed him hovering uncomfortably behind him. "I'm ok."

"That's not what the evidence suggests." House had moved closer. His hot breath made the hairs stand up on the back of Wilson's neck.

"House…" he suddenly felt on the verge of tears. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Want me to make dinner?"

"Sure. You know where the phone and takeout menus are."

Wilson was sure he felt fingers brush against his neck when he moved away. The Chinese came and they ate quietly, one man listening while the other spilled into rants about the various people he did not like. James ran over and over words in his head, trying to work out what to say, until every sentence lost meaning. He opened his mouth the speak once, planning to blurt out whatever came into his head, and choked on half an egg roll. So back he was in his own head, watching House wave his arms around, gesturing in indignation, about whatever it was he was talking about. A thousand thoughts filled his head, most of which were centred around the bright blue eyes of the man he was eating with and clouding any chance he had of forming a coherent sentence. A piece of meat hit him on the side of his face and slide down, leaving a ridiculous smear on his cheek. "Hey! What was that for?"

"To check you're still alive in there. Do you think you're at the talking about it stage yet? If you aren't, don't feel obligated to visit that stage this time around. Skip to the part where we get drunk and watch strippers."

"I was thinking about breaking up with Julie myself. I wasn't ready to go there yet but I'd considered it."

"Because you stopped loving her or because you found another person you loved more?" House knew the answer, of course, he always did.

"Option two. I think. I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I know this person means more to me than Julie does, I just can't figure out what I want from them." House gave a questioning look, so Wilson continued. "This person is so goddamn annoying half the time, dysfunctional, co-dependant, totally screwing views on what counts as acceptable behaviour…"

"Oh, is that all?" House said with a sarcastic edge.

"No. He also just threw food at me."

"Well you certainly shouldn't be in a relationship with someone that juvenile, even if you do look cute with sauce on your face."

"He's incapable of treating important things seriously…"

"Shall I start listing your faults? You are so blind you managed to not notice someone flirting with you day-in day-out for the past 6 years, you are so deeply repressed you married three women to convince yourself you're straight, plus screwed half the women in the tri-state area, you walk around everyday teasing people with that very cute ass – "

"You don't understand that my ass is not, in fact, detachable. You know all this already but still let me go through 3 terrible marriages instead of saying something –"

"You think I should take responsibility for your psychological issues."

"You _caused_ half of my psychological issues."

"You sit there looking unbelievably gorgeous, not moving close enough for me to lick the sauce off."

"Well that is a valid point." Wilson smiled and moved from the armchair to join House on the couch.

House leaned in and with surprising softness pressed his lips against Wilson's. He gently nipped Wilson's lip, and then moved his mouth to his cheek, licking the sauce away, slowly and firmly working his tongue against the skin. When he pulled away he smiled at the expression on James' face; eyes half closed, lips parted and beads of sweat already forming on his brow.

"So, have you enjoyed the holidays, Dr Wilson?"

Wilson grinned. "We should do this every year."


End file.
